I've never been inspired to do a point of view (POV) chapter in this story, but I believe to truly illustrate Jasmine's feelings in this one, I'll have to. The lyrics are from "Good Enough" by Sarah McLachlan, the saddest song on the CD, in my opinion. You know, I love to hate the girl sometimes, and it shows in my fiction, but in this, I tried to see her point of view.

"Hey your glass is empty
it's a hell of a long way home"

When did I get like this?

I swirled the golden, multi toned, flickering liquid in the tiny glass I found tucked away in the palace cupboards. It was beautiful, beautiful in some heartbreaking, tragic, novel way I never could. The old alcoholic whatever it was, I never was one much for drinking, was just as forlorn, covered in a thick sheen of dust, the stopper stuck deep in the crystal neck of the bottle.

I hunched my shoulders deeper into myself, trying to hide the fact that, yes, the princess of Agrabah, Mrs. Royal and Innocent, Mrs. Virginal, was attempting to drink her pain away. But no one was here; they all retreated outside to the gardens and menagerie, the orchards and pond to enjoy the bright, warm, sunny day outside. I was alone and could hear the surprisingly nice silence to confirm that.

Where was Aladdin? I don't know, nor do I care, at least not now. No, not now. The last I've seen of him was when he first returned last night, dirty, bleeding and soaked. The last I've seen of him was through eyes of red, some distant, malignant roaring in my ears.

That last I've seen of him, I knew. The last I've seen of him, I knew he had betrayed my trust.

I knew he had cheated on me.

I laugh humorlessly, taking the shimmering glass in my hand and hurling it at the closest wall, watching as the liquid inside bleeds down the smear it made when it shattered, the glass falling to the floor like glittering rain. Who am I fooling? I don't drink; I've never been one for anything alcoholic.

But then again, I'm not Mozenrath.

"Why don't you let me take you
it's no good to go alone"

No, I'm just boring Jasmine. I'm nothing dangerous, I'm no viper stewing in my bitterness in some Citadel. What do I have to offer but a pair of open arms? God Aladdin, why are you so addicted to things that are going to hurt you? How many times has he tried to kill, How many times in your frustration, in your frustration brought on by him, have you been brought to angry, helpless tears?

And why, Aladdin, did you think I wouldn't know? After watching you two, when I had come to your home to seek you out, doing something so sinful. Of course you two didn't actually…Dare I say the word…kissed but Aladdin the guilt on your face was painfully obvious. God Aladdin, dare you cross that line? Dare you throw everything away?

You had more on you than the markings of some battle when you slunk in last night. I didn't miss the smattering of a blush across your cheeks, the fleeting attention you gave the world as you hummed some nonsense tune about love, I'm sure. I didn't miss the way you touched your lips when you thought nobody was looking. And I sure didn't miss the smaller signs, the sings only someone who loves you could pick up on. Aladdin, you practically floated in to the palace! That was something reserved for me, was it not? Was it not my right, my somehow divine right to affect you like that?

It made me feel special.

I stand mechanically, wrapping my arms around my waist. Somehow, this room has just gotten too big and too empty. I head towards the gardens, seeking company even if it isn't what I want, mulling on the way.

How had I known it was Mozenrath, Mozenrath who had brought you in here…

Marred. Touched?

I've known you both have been getting to close to be normal. I mean, he's your enemy, is he not? Why extend to him the civility I've been feeling so pained without? You have been saying your 'love you's; it's just that you're always running out the door. Is it so much to ask to trade your drama for me?

God, I sound just like the spoiled princess everyone sees me as.

But that's irrelevant, isn't it? You pay far more attention to Mozenrath nowadays to notice anything about me, how I've sought out your company for days now.

But you're gone, always gone.

And even when you're here, you are not. You'd know what I mean if you could see how your eyes drift, your attention strays, your brow furrows in thought in something other than the current conversation.

"I never would have opened up
but you seemed so real to me
After all the bullshit I've heard
it's refreshing not to see"

But isn't it my luck, there you are, lying down on your back and staring at the sky on the sun warmed side of the fountain. When did you come here, slinking back from whatever it is you do when you're not with me?

But you have seen me, and have sat up in preparation for whatever it is you think I might do. Strange, you almost look apprehensive. Since when were you scared of me? But I know what I'll do; I'll approach you softly, I'll gently coax the confessions out of you, I'll lure you back into my arms with words of tenderness and reason.

"Aladdin! How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us?"

Not quite the way I planned, but then again, nothing really comes out like we plan, now does it?

You start, desperately trying to hide the guilt and disappointment in your face with an expression of forced innocence. Why do you always try to hide things from me?

"What do you mean?" you ask, startled.

This catches me off guard. Of course I knew you'd deny it, somewhere in me, but still...

"Oh Aladdin, please don't do this. Just please, tell me why Mozenrath is more important to you than our relationship."

Your eyes widen, and my arms tighten around myself. My voice is strangely soft, intercepting any immediate reply of yours.

" I saw...the way you looked when you came back here last night. Your face...your lips." No, this is irrelevant, and you are looking more shocked still. I wave my hands, as if to dismiss it all, " I knew you had kissed someone. And it wasn't me."

You fumble for words.

"Jasmine, I, I don't' know what to say. Do you really believe I would cheat on you, with another guy of all people, is that what you're suggesting?"

"Aladdin, I really don't know what to believe anymore. You've been acting so strange lately, you've been running off to see Mozenrath." I practically snarl the name. Why haven't I noticed before how much this bothered me?

You look incredulous.

"Jasmine, I was helping the man, keeping tabs on him, trying to keep him from doing anything further to harm this city, isn't that a good thing?"

I laugh softly, shaking my head.

"Aladdin, doing your duty as Agrabah's hero and serving some obsession you seem to have grown for a man who has tried to kill you more than once are two totally different things."

I caught you off guard, I can tell.

"I'm not obsessed Jasmine, I'm not. I'm just..."

"What really has me worried is what you do with him that I haven't already witnessed or know about, I mean besides almost kissing the man inside your own home, then going ahead and doing it! What if those aren't the only times..."

There I go, worrying myself.

You turn red, betraying your supposed 'indignancy' as you leap from your seat, pointing a finger down at me.

"I did not kiss Mozenrath! I did not!"

Allah, Aladdin, just give it up. It's over, so much is over. Can't you feel it? I can; it's like some all encompassing avalanche... I can't breathe. I just thought...I thought it would be different with you, I wouldn't have to watch you, to make sure you were still mine all the time, you know? How many guys have given me the same bullshit...? But you were supposed to be different!

Perhaps I had said out loud what I was thinking, or maybe it was written all too clear on my face as I looked up at you for some gesture of mercy, compassion, but your expression softened, and your eyes were swamped with guilt. You knelt in front of me, submission in every move you made as you took my arms in your hands and looked me so painfully in the eye.

" Jasmine...I'm sorry. I did...I never meant to hurt you, I promise I didn't, it's just that..."

Finally, I might have you. Last chance. Last chance. I take your face in my hands, now using the dominance of my gaze to get my point across. I speak clearly.

"Aladdin, He. Is. A. Guy. You are a guy. What were you thinking? It's not right!"

And now I see that was the wrong way to approach you, as defiance flashes hot and gold in your eyes.

"According to who?"

"According to Allah, Aladdin! According to decency, what's right. It's just not natural. If you were going to cheat on me, at least don't make me wonder about you so much."

You stand slowly, and my hands fall, defeated, from your face. You are still defiant, haven't absorbed a word I said, it's written in the rigid posture of your back, the thin line your lips make.

"You may think that, hell, the whole world may think that," you say slowly, as if gathering momentum as you go, " But frankly, that really doesn't matter. You know Jasmine, I didn't ask for this, I'm not even sure about this; I'm going through an ordeal here too."

Something wild and indignant screams and rents inside me at that, but you're walking away, angry, and I must have my last say, so I swallow my anger.

" Aladdin, let me just tell you this. You might loose me, you may loose everything we've ever fought and worked for. You loose a fiancé, and you'll loose a love. Are you sure you want to do that? Sort out whatever it is you have with Mozenrath, because you can't have both."

You half turn back at that, and I'm surprised, because your eyes are pained right before you walk away. I hold my breath for what seems the longest time, not noticing my tears until I feel a hot flash on my palm, and get up and just...

Run.

"I don't have to pretend
she doesn't expect it from me"

And I keep running. I worship the sound of my sandals hitting the ground like thunder, the piston like mechanics of my legs, the burn in my chest. I keep running, and I keep crying.

I'm almost stumbling in exhaustion by the time I've gotten through courtyard after courtyard, corridor after corridor, and finally made it to my room, cliché I know, but I just need it. I hit the bed hard, bouncing up a little and scattering gold trimmed throw pillows in my wake. It just fuels the fury inside.

I hate all this fake-ness, in this (it can't be real), in my room, in my life. Why can't everything be like I saw it, like I believed it would be? I just wanted the simple things, you know? I didn't think it was too much to ask.

A firm brush of fur startles me against my elbow, and there is Rajah's face, concerned. Now Rajah, she has never steered me wrong, never shattered my world. I laugh as I bury my face in her fur, sobbing into it.

Isn't that pathetic?

"So don't tell me I
haven't been good to you
Don't tell me I
haven't been there for you
Just tell me why
nothing is good enough"

Haven't I been a good girlfriend, I know I've tried? What in me could make a man turn to the darkest sides of attraction, to Allah forbid, turn him gay? My stomach wrenches, and I have to convince myself that it's not you, I'm not prejudice against another way of life, it's just that...I'll loose you. What experience have I had with that sort of thing, certaintly never inside the palace walls, I couldn't imagine it. My face is already burning in shame and embarrassment, even if yours might never.

Aladdin, I've always been there for you. I was your partner, your lover, your confidant and friend. I was your shoulder, your strength and your reason. I fought and laughed alongside of you. I loved you. I still do. Aladdin, I made my whole world around, if you ripped that away, what would I have left?

Why isn't a girlfriend, a fiancée who loves you good enough?

"Hey little girl would you like some candy,
your momma said that it's o.k.,
The door is open come on outside,
no I can't come out today",

I find myself walking numb and cold outside to just another sunny orchard, empty and bright. I run my fingertips on the marble walls that keep the pear and damson trees behind it safe, scattering a few stray, white blossoms. I sit, somehow calmer now.

From this vantage point, I can see the main door leading into the outside perimeters of the palace, large, heavy dark wood with gold handles. They haven't been open in years, not since I was a kid.

Not since she died.

Allah, I was so ridiculously happy when my mother was alive. I remember distantly what she looked like, though I can't be sure if my own dreams of her took the place of her real features. She had lighter skin, almost cream, and her hair was thin, wispy but always-tied back. She had hazel eyes, a trait my father never failed to mention, according to a nurse I had at the time. Isn't it funny how we remember the most trivial of things? I remember doing so many things with her, and none of this taking extravagant picnics and watching paid performers, no, she and I enjoyed casual ways of spending our times. My mother, in all her regal and nobility, would hitch her sleeves up, don a head cloth and she and I would spend the most pleasant of afternoons window washing in the fancy parlors, watching sunlight streaming in through sparkling glass. Of course, I probably wasn't any help, but still, I was with her, my father was with her when we sat around in the most private parlor and told stories, me playing with my toys or Rajah on the rug.

And then she got sick. My first illusion breaker, everything wasn't so gold and childhood after then. I remember being confused, lost, wondering why my mother was so pale and uninterested in me as she lay in bed, a wet cloth on her forehead. She would be attended to by a strange new nurse, healers I've never seen before, who didn't care whether I was her daughter or not, but snapped at me to go outside. My father changed too, he'd pace the halls outside her door, after staying in there for hours at a time, fists clench, angry at himself all his money and power couldn't save his wife, brow knit, radiating angry energy. I played out in this courtyard a lot by myself, it was so lonely and quiet, it hurt to do it, but I didn't know what to do.

How could I make this better?

As my mother's condition worsened, it seemed hope was given up on, and then, only then could I see her. I remember being so scared, so startled when my big, bear of a father, came crying like some lost child into the orchard, pulling me to him forcefully, me almost smothered in the force of his desperate hug as he sobbed into my hair, telling me it would be alright, telling me I should see her, telling me my mother didn't have long.

Fathers weren't supposed to cry, at least that's what my 8-year-old mind was telling me.

I think I almost crept into my mother's room, timid, confused as to why the room smelt so powerfully of death. There was a thick blanket of silence, of surrender in the room. And then I saw her, my mother, as sallow and gray as a skeleton, eyes wet under her thick lashes, hair spread out like a blossom on a damp pillow. I rushed to her then, fear forgotten.

My mother died trying, trying so hard to comfort me.

"It's not the wind that cracked your shoulder
and threw you to the ground,
Who's there that makes you so afraid
you're shaken to the bone,"

My father went downhill since then, after the sweltering procession in black, carrying my mother's body out. Or at least to me. He saw I needed help, somehow, and banished all grief, all signs of weakness, masking it with a facade of blind optimism he keeps on today. I lost him to that.

I'm just afraid I'll end up like him, alone, so valiantly trying to pretend I'm not, afraid to seek out another after that perfect significant other.

A sob catches in my throat. I don't want to die alone; I want somehow to be there, holding my hand, smiling down gently as we reminisce our way to paradise, as it should be.

I wanted stability, a home, a family, a husband and, Allah forbid, even children. I wanted the simple things, Aladdin.

I wanted a future with you.

I wanted you, so much more than anything else.

"You know I don't understand,
you deserve so much more than this"

My fingers dig angry red crescents in my palms.

But I can't have what I want, what I need, all because of you, Mozenrath, all because of you. It just isn't fair; I've been so much better to Aladdin than you ever have. You were always trying to hurt him, always putting him down, mocking him, bringing out the worst of Aladdin's anger. What do you have I do not?

I pick up the vase sitting next to me on the wall.

You are a jackal, Mozenrath! A home wrecker, a plunderer, a thief, a jerk, you've ruined everything!

It shatters as it hits the opposite wall, loudly, pieces of carefully wrought clay flying with delicate soil and bruised petals.

I hate you!

"So don't tell me why
he's never been good to you,
Don't tell me why
he's never been there for you,
And I'll tell you that why
is simply not good enough"

If you would just let me prove it to you, list all the times he's hurt you, list all the reasons why he's just not good enough for you, I would in a heartbeat. Allah, Aladdin, where is your head at?

"So just let me try
and I will be good to you
Just let me try
and I will be there for you,
I'll show you why
you're so much more than good enough"

Aladdin, just pick me, put your faith in me. Allah, please. Choose me, and I promise on everything I hold dear, I'll make this all go away. I'll make it better.

I'll love you better than I ever had before.